Lost and Found
by CeliaEquus
Summary: For a prompt on the Avengers Kink Meme. Phil receives a distressing email, but has no time to think about its contents. When he is nearly shot during battle because of his distraction, the Avengers insist on taking care of him. Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers, or any other Marvel thingummies, nor am I making money from this. Possible future OT7. Warning: minor character death.


**Warning: minor character death mentioned.**

"Lost and Found"

The email was short in places, rambling in others. There were so many typos that, if it hadn't come from his step-mother, he would have returned it with corrections, and politely asked whether or not the writer wanted to take a few more grade school English lessons.

But not this email.

"Coulson, we got a problem downtown, eastern outskirts of Brooklyn," Fury said, his voice over the intercom startling Phil into action. "The Avengers are on their way. A group of small-time home grown terrorists, according to Stark, but you know how he exaggerates. A `jet's waiting for you. Be on deck in five minutes."

"I'll be there in three, sir," Phil said, putting his computer on lockdown, arming himself, and leaving his office at a run.

It was in mid-battle that he noticed something about the outfit of a young woman he had engaged in a shooting match. It was just to distract her until she could be taken for questioning, along with the other survivors of the group. They were good fighters, tight-knit from the word go, and even Captain America had had his doubts about whether they could get away with minimal injuries. But then Phil asked them what they wanted. As it turns out, they all had their own agendas, and none of them could decide. That was when they began to fight each other as well as the Avengers and SHIELD.

The problem was that Phil was sure they were working for someone else, sent to test the Avengers. Natasha backed up his theory as they debated over the comms. Whoever had sent them must have been new; their former allies knew how the Avengers worked, despite their best efforts to vary their styles. But why change what worked?

The thing is, the colour of the young woman's shirt reminded him of his mother's favourite handbag—

"Sir!"

Captain America shoved Phil out of the way in time, shield raised to protect them both.

"You were nearly shot," he said. "Why did you freeze like that? She could've killed you!"

"Sorry," Phil said. He shook his head. "It's okay. I'm good now."

"What's wrong?"

Phil stared into those eyes, the colour accentuated by the blue of Steve's uniform.

"My mother died yesterday," he said quietly.

Steve drew in a sharp breath. "Stay down. Let us deal with the g… Never mind. Hawkeye's pinned her with a few arrows." Now that Phil looked, it was about seven or eight. "And Natasha's nearly there. I'll tell the others—"

"Don't," Phil said. "I need to start organising the prisoner transfer, the clean-up…"

A red glove covered his mouth. "Wait. Here."

Phil bit his tongue to stop himself from saying 'Yes, sir'.

When Captain America told people to do things, they did it. So as he barked out orders to the other SHIELD agents, organising the things Phil usually took charge of, the agent stayed where he was, trying to forget the colour of that shirt.

His step-mother was a lovely woman, and she and his mother had always gotten on well; they were closer than either had ever been to his father. Practically best friends. It was pretty funny whenever he told people that (not that Phil ever displayed any type of humour other than deadp— dry wit). And his dad never thought of the practical things, like informing his only son about his ex-wife's passing.

It was an accident; a car crash. She swerved to miss a child playing in the street, and had crashed into a large, solid tree. Apparently the police thought she had accelerated instead of breaking, and the impact caused her to break her neck.

At least it was a painless death, and she died saving a life. Tragic though it was, Phil was proud of her.

When Steve came back and dragged Phil to his feet, he allowed himself to be led away, helped into one of Stark's many cars, and driven back to the Avengers Mansion, as they were now calling it. Bruce took him to his room.

"It's Hulk-proof," he explained. "Just in case. Do you want someone with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Steve told us that you…"

"That I lost my mother?" He sighed. "I told him not to tell anyone."

"You lost…? I'm sorry."

Phil's eyes narrowed as he looked at the doctor. "He didn't tell you."

"No."

"If I'm going to be tricked by a genius, at least it's you, not Stark."

Bruce chuckled, and patted Phil on the shoulder. "Do you want someone with you? Steve said that you'd probably want to be alone, but he's happy to be here for you. I guess he means as a shoulder to cry on."

"Dr. Banner," Phil said, drawing himself up, even as Bruce pushed him onto his bed, "I do not cry."

"Then maybe you should," Bruce retorted. "Do you want to be left alone, or do you want someone to keep you company?" Phil didn't reply. "You nearly got yourself shot out there today. Have you had time to grieve?"

"…No."

"Then do it now." He cupped Phil's chin, and forced him to make eye contact. "We all care about you, and want you to be okay. Please don't keep it in. None of us judge you for being human." He half-smiled. "We need someone human around here. Even Miss Potts is super-human."

"Thanks."

"Phil, please."

Phil studied him. Up close, Bruce Banner's eyes were astonishingly large and earnest. How could anyone be afraid of him, or hate him?

"I think I'd rather be alone for this," he whispered. Bruce nodded, and stood up slowly.

"JARVIS will keep an eye on you," he said. "Don't think of it as an intrusion; think of him as a guardian angel."

"I am well-qualified to act as a guardian angel, sir," JARVIS said. "I have performed this function for Mr. Stark many times over the years."

"Thank you," Phil said, meaning it this time. He nodded. "Both of… all of you. Just give me a couple of minutes."

"As long as you need," Bruce said, and he tapped Phil on the nose. The agent blinked, staring at the scientist as he left the room.

* * *

Outside, the Avengers watched Phil on a big screen in the living area. By the time Bruce got there, Phil was holding his head in his hands.

JARVIS wasn't the only guardian angel on duty.

They watched as Phil lowered his hands and clasped them on his lap.

They watched as he began to rock back and forth, just gently, until he was again covering his face.

"Speakers on at twenty-five percent, JARVIS," Tony said.

Now they listened as well. They listened as Phil gasped huge, ragged breaths, his shoulders heaving. The listened as the breaths grew in volume, became less breathy, and turned to heart-wrenching sobs.

* * *

In Bruce's room, Phil kept thinking of his beautiful mother, with her chestnut brown hair, her blue-grey eyes that were so disarming that he could never lie to her, even when he joined SHIELD and was given strict instructions not to reveal his work to anyone. She was the only person outside of work who knew what he did… _was_ the only person…

The first time he killed someone in the line of duty – a bad guy, sure, but he still killed someone – and rang her in tears, she consoled him, said how proud she was, and reassured him that he was still a good man. Better men had used guns for lesser reasons; and if Phil hadn't done what he did, how many innocent people might have died? She told him that she still loved him, and would always love him.

It was this memory that turned his hyperventilating to sobbing. He crashed to his knees on the floor and wailed, just the once.

"Mom," he said, over and over, interspersed with whimpers as each memory hit him. The first memory he had of her was when she gave him a pair of Captain America pyjamas for his second Christmas, confessing that she loved Captain America almost as much as she loved Phil.

"And that's an awful lot," she'd said, giving him an Eskimo kiss even as she buttoned up the pyjamas at the back, managing it perfectly without even looking. "You'll be just as brave as him when you grow up, and make your mommy so proud. So proud of her little Philly."

"Mommy," he whispered, and he curled up where he still knelt on the floor. "I miss you. I wish you were here. I wish…"

Phil's face crumpled further as he remembered when she and his father split up. She'd told him again and again that she still loved him, and he would be staying with her as much as possible. He was twelve, and kind of grateful to have the shouting matches at an end. She was only a few streets away, on his way home from school, and the first time he met the woman who would become his step-mother was when he visited. Lorraine was a cross between kind and no-nonsense, not as sweet and friendly as his mom, but she wasn't the evil step-mother type, either.

His three parents helped him learn how to drive; but it was the couture cupcake that his mother gave him when he passed his test that meant the most, even more than the car his father bought for him half a year later.

When he graduated from college, his mother was there. They went to a restaurant together afterwards, just the two of them, for dinner. When he saw a woman being attacked outside, he hadn't even thought before he ran out and caught the bag-snatcher before anyone could even finish dialling nine-one-one. He forced the man to apologise, returned the woman's bag, and waited with them until the cops arrived. When he got back inside, he didn't even notice the applause as soon as he realised that he'd bumped the table when he stood up, knocking their drinks onto his mother's brand new dress.

"Stop apologising," she berated him even as he kept fussing, and promising to pay for it to be cleaned. "Don't you know that every man and woman in this room is jealous that you're my son?"

That set off another wave of tears. He had paid for the drinks, the meal, and the dry-cleaning bill. In exchange, his mother had bought him a mint condition replica Captain America shield, one which the captain himself had signed in the forties. It must have cost her a fortune.

"I think it's more important to reward my very own Captain America," she said. "I won't need that money for a long time yet; there's plenty of time to rebuild my retirement fund."

She was only teasing him; she said as much when he tried to say sorry yet again.

Now she wouldn't need her retirement fund.

By the time he was nearly asleep, the ache in Phil's chest was pronounced, his face and suit were an absolute mess, and he felt… relieved. Like a weight had been lifted; not just from this, but from every bit of stress he had felt.

His last memory before falling asleep was her face when she visited him in the hospital after he woke from his induced medical coma. Nick had managed to sneak her in – giving Phil a disapproving glare for having broken the vow of secrecy – and she just held his hand and wept. This time she had apologised, for encouraging him to be like Captain America. He repeated the words he had told her then.

"Don't worry, Mom," he said. "I'd rather be brave for you than anything else in the world."

* * *

He awoke to the sound of soft snores on both sides. A glance to one side showed him Natasha, Bruce, and Steve. Turning his head, he noted Tony, Clint, and Thor on the other. Thor was the only one awake, and he tilted his head to see better, blond hair falling to the side like a cascade of water.

"I am deeply sorry for your loss, Phillip," he said. His version of soft was a quiet rumble, like distant thunder. "I have not known such a thing; but were my own mother to pass into the halls of Valhalla, I too should be heartbroken."

"Thank you," Phil murmured. Natasha and Tony both snuggled closer when he moved.

"She was a remarkable woman."

"Yeah, she was. Why d'you say that?"

Thor gave him a look implying that it was a very stupid question.

"Did she not play a part in raising you?" he asked. Phil frowned, and looked around at the rest of the Avengers.

"Why are you all here?" he said.

"You are our friend, and we all care deeply for you," Thor said, still speaking in his version of quiet.

"Where's my suit?"

"It is being cleaned. The good doctor has lent you arraignments of his own. You stirred not a whisper."

It was probably just as well. Phil's face would have caught fire from embarrassment. God— Odin knows what he must have looked like. Thor must have recognised his thoughts, because he chuckled lowly.

"You have witnessed us at our worst moments," he said. "Will you not allow us the same privilege, Son of Coul?"

In the middle of a giant cuddle from his – _his_ – group of superheroes, who he somehow knew would insist on coming to his mother's funeral, Phil couldn't bring himself to complain, or to insist otherwise.

"Yeah," he said. "I'd like that."

"Sleep now, my friend. And when you awaken, perhaps you will realise you are never alone while you are in our lives."

Phil smiled, and drifted off to an easier sleep, secure in the knowledge that while his mother was no longer there to comfort him when things went wrong – when he felt human – he had another family who would always be there. They would look after him, just as he watched over them.

And maybe things really would be all right.

* * *

**Oh Merlin, I'm a horrible person.**

**For a prompt on the Avengers Kink Meme:**

"**Coulson is always extremely calm and collected, taking down baddies with a bag of flour, telling otherworldly robots to stand down, taking on Gods with giant guns... Okay, so he's a bit of a dork around Captain America, but in a good way.  
I'd love to see Phil completely lose it. Crying, swearing up a storm, a fit of rage, anything." (Page 36 of round 16.)**

**So I decided to go with the crying thing. Which led to me being a horrible person; and the fic was much longer than I intended. With hints of possible future OT7, because why the heck not? Smeg canon couples! What's the point in writing fan fiction if you write everything as it still exists? Or… something?**

**I hope I didn't make anyone cry. Unless it was good crying, or meant that I did my job as a writer.**


End file.
